Evaporated
by blue shine
Summary: Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.
1. Nobody But God

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**I: Nobody But God**

* * *

Lex Luthor was furious.

As the soft rain began to stripe the tall windows of his study, he stared through his reflection at the grayness that was outside. His father, not surprisingly, was at it again—this time, however, he had gone too far. Lionel had just relayed the news to him with the requisite lack of humanity:

"I'm foreclosing these leases," he said, dropping four files onto Lex's desk. "I expect you can take care of that by the end of the day."

Lex thumbed through them—ANDERSON, HART, ROBINSON, SMITHWICK. He looked at his father, incredulous. "These are four of the oldest farms in Smallville."

"Unfortunately, they also can't seem to keep up with their payments," Lionel said.

"These families are some of your longest-running employees," Lex said, beginning to fume. "That notwithstanding, I happen to know for a fact that you encouraged each and every one of them to invest all of their earnings in LuthorCorp stock. You knew they wouldn't be able to maintain their leases, and yet you advised them to do it anyway."

"Now, Lex, I never did pretend to be in the charity business," Lionel said with a chuckle. "You know this as well as I do."

Lex shook his head in amazement. "For a supposedly clever businessman, you're never going to get a foothold in this community if you don't start giving people reason to trust you."

"Lex!" Lionel exclaimed, even more amused. "I think we both know I already have a pretty good foothold."

Lex met his father's eyes. "I won't do your dirty work for you, Dad."

Lionel stood for a moment as if to consider this, then raised his eyebrows and turned away. "You know," he said, "the Kents aren't very far from meeting the same type of fate. I'd hate to see such a nice family go under."

Lex removed his tongue from where it had suddenly rolled into his cheek. "Blackmailing your own son... nice touch, Dad."

"You know I can do it, Lex," Lionel said gravely. "Now I know I'm not asking you too much."

Lex looked down into his lap, a resentful smirk twitching the corners of his lips.

"Do you know how the writer Ambrose Bierce once described William Randolph Hearst?" Lionel asked rather abruptly.

Lex continued to stare into his folded hands. "'Nobody but God loves him, and he knows it,'" he recited.

Lionel smiled. "Luthors are not here on this earth to be popular, Son." And with that, he left the room.

Lex shook his head again in disbelief as he rose and went to the window. Though, on the surface, Lionel had included himself in the disparaging analogy, Lex knew deep in his heart that his father didn't believe it.

_It's reserved for this Luthor only_, Lex thought grimly as he let his eyes recede from the rain to settle on his reflected self.

* * *

**END 1/11**

* * *

What I've kept with me  
And what I've thrown away  
And where the hell I've ended up  
On this glary, random day  
Were the things I really cared about  
Just left along the way  
For being too pent-up and proud

Don't you know I'm numb, man  
No, I can't feel a thing at all  
'Cause it's all smiles and business these days  
And I'm indifferent to the loss  
I've faith that there's a soul somewhere  
That's leading me around  
I wonder if she knows which way is down

Here I stand  
Sad and free  
I can't cry, and I can't see  
What I've done  
No, God—what have I done?

And I poured my heart out  
I poured my heart out  
It evaporated... see?

~ ben folds five


	2. Hazard

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**II: Hazard**

* * *

As with most news in Smallville, the hard luck of four of LuthorCorp's most faithful did not take long to spread. At the _Torch_ the next morning, Chloe pored over the day's headlines on her computer.

"I'm telling you, Clark, it's bad news," she said, referring to the report on her screen.

"It doesn't sound good, that's for sure," Clark admitted.

"I'm sure your parents were less than thrilled to hear about it," Chloe said, looking over at him.

Clark gave a lopsided smile. "Yeah, I guess you could say that," he said. "Honestly, I don't know what to think. I can't believe even Lionel Luthor would stoop this low. Lex must be really pissed off."

"You don't think he knew about it?"

Clark looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is you never know. Maybe Lex has more Luthor blood running through him than you think," Chloe said.

Surprised, Clark countered, "Yeah, but if there's one person Lex isn't, it's his father."

"Touché. I would still ask him about it, though—see what his take on the whole situation is."

Clark arched an eyebrow.

"Off the record, of course," Chloe added with a smile.

»»««

By midday, reports of what was going on in Smallville were all over Metropolis. For most people there, it was just another chapter on their crooked tycoon that went in one ear and out the other. But when wind of the story reached one Mr. Jack Sherman, the news caught like a piece of floating driftwood on a jutting rock.

One of the more successful conmen in Metropolis, Sherman had always distrusted—no, in fact, hated—Lionel Luthor. So when his cousin Hank Robinson, who worked for LuthorCorp, had eagerly talked about investing all of his wages in his employer's stock, Jack had loudly protested. Now his cousin was in danger of losing everything, and Sherman decided, once and for all, something had to be done.

"This is the last straw," he told Clayton, his most frequent and reliable partner in crime. "Luthor has done this one too many times, and now he's made it personal."

"I hear he actually made his kid do it," said Clayton. "The bastard can't even pick up his own shit for fear his fingernails'll get dirty."

"Whether Luthor Jr. wanted to do it or not isn't the issue," Sherman said. "The fact is he did, and we can't have a future threat like that if we wanna get rid of Lionel Luthor's bullshit for good."

"What do you wanna do?"

"I say we go after the son. We send out leaks to the press of what's going on, we ask Lionel for a tidy ransom—and if that smarmy motherfucker fails to deliver, he'll go down in Smallville as the guy who sat back and let his only son die."

"Where and when do we get him," Clayton asked.

"I think it's safe to say his house would be way too goddamn hard. I know a good private eye—he can follow him around for a week, see where he goes. That will probably give us a good idea of the best place to do it."

Clayton nodded slowly in consideration. "Sounds like a plan to me," he said finally.

»»««

The tops of the trees were ablaze with the gold of the late afternoon sun as Clark busied himself shooting hoops in the driveway. The tension of the day's revelation and its possible implications had proven too much to bear in the farmhouse. His fingers were leaving the ball on a particularly nice shot when he noticed a black Porsche pull up out of the corner of his eye.

"Clark," Lex greeted, exiting the car.

Clark retrieved the ball that had just dropped neatly through the net and walked over to him. "Hey, Lex."

"Surprised to see me?" Lex asked.

"No, not really," answered Clark, involuntarily looking in the direction of the farmhouse. "How's it going?"

"Oh, another proud day for the Luthors," Lex replied cheerlessly. "What's an additional host of families to add to the casualty list?"

"Yeah, it's a shame," Clark said. "My parents are actually pretty good friends with some of them."

This produced the slightest of jaw clenches in Lex, who responded, "Yeah—well, tell your parents how truly sorry I am."

Clark smiled in acquiescence but raised a questioning eyebrow. "Sure, but you know it's not your job to apologize for your father—you're not the one who did it," he said.

Lex returned Clark's friendly expression stoically. "Right," he murmured.

"It's just unsettling, you know... I mean did your father mention anything to you? Do you think it could happen again in the future?" Clark asked.

Lex looked back at him and felt something inside of him go cold. "No," he lied, "he didn't say anything."

Clark nodded and gripped the basketball in his hands, moving it around a bit.

Lex stood there a moment and sought Clark's eyes again. "But I'll do my best to keep anything from happening to your farm," he said as Clark looked up.

"Thanks, Lex—that really means a lot."

Lex forced a smile and said, "Well, I really just stopped by to see how you were doing. I don't want to hazard an encounter with your parents today, so I think I'll just be on my way."

"OK," Clark said. "Thanks for stopping by."

Lex nodded and went back to his car. He left Clark to resume shooting baskets and drove off, the now red sun burning his eyes slightly as he sped along. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Lex silently cursed his father for this life in which he was forced to lie to his only friend.

* * *

**END 2/11**

* * *

My words confuse you  
My eyes don't move a blink  
'Cause it's easier sometimes  
Not to be sincere, somehow  
I make you believe

When I speak, I cross my fingers  
Will you know you've been deceived?  
I find a need to be the demon  
A demon cannot be hurt

Honest is easy  
Fiction's where genius lies  
'Cause it's easier sometimes  
Not to be involved, somehow  
I make you believe...

~ guster


	3. An Acceptable Reaction

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**III: An Acceptable Reaction  
**

* * *

Lana mopped at some spilled coffee on the counter of the Talon. She hadn't seen Lex since the news broke about the farms, and she found herself somewhat uneasy about seeing him today. It wasn't that Lana felt especially angry towards him, but the media were now reporting that Lex could very well get dragged into the middle of the messy controversy. She dropped the rag unceremoniously into the sink and turned back to see Lex approaching the Talon's door—right on time.

"Good morning, Lana," he said, walking up to the counter.

"Hi, Lex. Can I get you anything?"

"Actually, if you could hit me with whatever blend has the most insane amount of caffeine today, that would be great."

"Coming right up," Lana said, turning to get it for him.

"Business been OK?" Lex asked.

"Yeah, pretty regular," Lana said, pouring his coffee into a cup. "Here, I have last night's receipts for you," she remembered, setting his drink down and retrieving the wad from the cash register.

"Thanks," Lex said, taking them from her. "Lana, I know I said I was going to talk with you this morning about hiring more employees, but I can't really concentrate on it right now... is next week OK?"

"Yeah, sure," she said, noting the look of weariness on his face.

Lex nodded and seemed ready to leave, but Lana felt compelled to ask him about the current reports. "I saw the papers today," she said, making him stop. "They said they might come after you, now—to put the blame on someone."

Lex seemed characteristically unfazed by this.

"Aren't you scared?" Lana asked.

"Lana, 'scared' has never really been part of my vocabulary," Lex said with a small smile.

She looked at him dubiously. "You were never scared when you were younger."

"Funny thing is, I had more reason to be a frightened child than not, but that didn't mean anything to my father. Even when I was very small, he would never have me believe that fear was an acceptable reaction to anything."

"You mean you weren't ever supposed to let it show when you were afraid?"

He looked bemused. "Of course not."

"Well what would you do?"

Lex sipped at his coffee as he looked away for a moment, furrowing his brow as if trying to remember—or maybe to forget, Lana couldn't tell which.

"My mother and I had this system," he said finally, bringing his cup down. "We had this code worked out, so that in the event I was scared and my father was nearby, I would mention rain in one way or another—anything, like, 'It hasn't rained in a while' or 'It better not rain on Saturday.' You know, stupid things like that. I had to get pretty creative sometimes, though, just so it wouldn't sound absolutely bizarre," Lex added with a laugh.

"Did it work?"

He gave a short nod. "Most times. My mother was always there for me." Shaking his head with wonder, he murmured, "Why she married my father, I'll never know."

At the risk of sounding irrelevant, Lana couldn't resist providing some measure of empathy. "My father was never there for me, either," she offered with a timid smile.

Lex's eyes slid over to hers, and she instantly regretted the decision to speak. But his expression remained smoothly detached as he said, "At least yours had an excuse."

While more startled than outright offended by the rather blunt choice of words, Lana still didn't know quite how to respond. Lex didn't give her time to decide, however, as he turned and left her to watch him exit the Talon.

* * *

**END 3/11**

* * *

You've been so sad  
It makes me worry  
Why not smile?  
You've been sad for a while

I would do anything  
To hear you speak of it  
Why not smile?  
You've been sad for a while

~ r.e.m.


	4. Sorely Mistaken

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**IV: Sorely Mistaken**

* * *

With the media frenzy dying down a bit, Lex decided to pay Clark a visit. While he still wasn't keen on running into _Mr_. and Mrs. Kent, a friend's company was exactly what he needed after a week-plus of unadulterated hell. Lex pulled into the Kents' drive and stepped out of his car. The evening was very still; given the pleasant weather of the past few days, it was hard to believe the forecast was actually calling for snow next week. Then again, the exact nature of winter's arrival—whether gradual or sudden—was never predictable. Lex breezed his way into the barn, slowing somewhat as he peered into its dimly lit interior.

"Clark?"

He stopped when no one answered, hearing only the lonely echo of his own voice. Looking up into the hayloft, Lex called out again.

"Clark, are you up there?"

His eyes slowly fell as two figures appeared some distance ahead of him. The one on the left was smaller than Lex and reminded him of the little henchman Roman Polanski played in _Chinatown_. The one on the right, however, looked about twice as tall and twice as heavy; something silver flashed from within his coat.

_The better to shoot you with_, Lex thought sardonically. Inwardly, he told himself not to panic. But try as he might, he could not ignore the instinctive dread in the pit of his stomach that told him Lex Luthor, somehow, had just stepped into a trap.

"What is this?" Lex asked coolly.

The two men slowly began walking forward, until there were only yards separating Lex and them.

"This, Mr. Luthor," stated Sherman matter-of-factly, "is a kidnapping."

An unexpected smile crept over Lex's features, belying his racing mind. "Is that so?"

"You got it," said Clayton. "Now you can make it easy on yourself and come with us now, or you can have it the hard way—which I don't advise."

Lex chose to ignore the threat for the time being, focusing instead on the overall situation at hand. He nodded thoughtfully, frowning as if impressed. "It's a good plan, in theory," he allowed. "Unfortunately," he continued, casually rolling his eyes to the ceiling, "it's not quite so airtight in practice."

Turning back to the men, Lex gave a bitter grin. "My father," he explained, "wouldn't pay you a dime."

Sherman considered this. "Sounds like a regular Father Of The Year."

"You have no idea," answered Lex.

"Even so," said Clayton, suddenly circling Lex and stopping behind him, "I think we'll take our chances."

_Monkey in the middle_, Lex chided himself.

"So what's it gonna be?" asked Sherman. "On your legs? Or off them."

Lex's eyes narrowed slightly, weighing the decision. "Well, if you think I'm going to go skipping off with you of my own accord, I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken," he said flatly.

Now it was the two men whose lips curled into smiles.

"Now, now, Mr. Luthor. Let's be an obedient little shit and come with us."

Lex remained where he stood, staring at an unremarkable spot on the barn floor. He was suddenly very aware of the Kents' presence—distant and in the farmhouse, but nevertheless _there_. These guys weren't going to shoot him, even to disable him, with the Kents so close within earshot...

Shrewdly interpreting Lex's slightly turned head, Clayton said, "Don't worry, Mr. Luthor, you'll be long gone before the Kents even realize you were here."

Lex consciously swallowed and hoped neither man noticed.

"The moment of truth," Sherman declared. "What's it gonna be."

Rather bewildered by what he was about to do, Lex didn't budge from his frozen, tense position. It was as if something inside of him had gone on autopilot, and he no longer had a say. _Might as well go down fighting_, he thought somewhat miserably, and with that, Lex broke from his motionless stance like a wound spring. Sherman never knew what hit him as Lex's fist hurled through the air and landed a powerful punch to the face. As the man grabbed his face in shock and pain, Lex spun to elude what he knew would be the wrath of Clayton.

_Duck and run_, he naïvely told himself in the milliseconds it took to turn towards the door. Waiting for him, regrettably, was Clayton's silver gun, which connected with his jaw. Lex actually saw the flash of metal as his head turned—_Oh shit_, was his last thought—and Clayton's arm, in a swift but deliberate motion, retracted and propelled forward to deliver a mouthful of metal as he pistol-whipped Lex to the ground in one blow. The brute force sent Lex careening to the barn floor, where he collapsed in a heap.

Sherman rubbed his cheek, looking down at Lex's prone figure. "That was a bold thing to do," he murmured evenly. "You're gonna pay like hell for it, but I must say, that took balls."

Idly, Lex wondered whether he might luck out and start to die right then and there. But he figured from the strong smell of the floor and the warm blood seeping through his teeth that his senses—and therefore he—were still very much alive.

"Get him up," Sherman ordered. "We gotta get moving here." As Lex was roughly hauled to his feet, Sherman caught his eye, adding with a smile marred by newfound swelling, "And Mr. Luthor has been quite clear in choosing his mode of departure."

Held fast, Lex was suddenly facing Sherman, feeling himself teeter slightly in Clayton's arms.

"What's the matter there, rich boy?" Sherman asked.

Lex didn't care anymore; he seriously felt like he was going to pass out at any minute. "I'm dizzy," he mumbled.

"Aww, he's dizzy," Sherman said, his lips pursed in mock sympathy.

"Yeah, that's too bad," said Clayton, and he mechanically braced Lex in his arms for the walloping punch that his partner viciously ground into Lex's stomach.

_OOOmph_ went the air from Lex's lungs as he doubled over, gasping for breath. Clayton pulled him back by the collar and held him fast.

"Turn him around, let me get his hands," Sherman said.

Finding himself spun around and his arms pinned behind his back, Lex felt his wrists roughly seized and fastened together with duct tape. He grimaced with each bind, desperately trying to remain on his feet while racking his brain over how he could have ended up with such shitty karma. Sure, he was no saint—but who was? Reflecting on his brief albeit turbulent existence thus far, Lex concluded with no small amount of self-pity that nothing he had ever done could warrant this violent and untimely end. The one's sheer size and strength, coupled with the other's obvious penchant for cruelty, seemed to point to the fact that these guys were gonna fuck his world up... and in a most unpleasant way.

Clayton spun Lex around again to face Sherman, who simply stared at Lex with his eerily calm, eerily bruised face.

"Now I know you're not gonna do anything stupid again, like yell for help—not like anybody could hear you anyway," he told Lex, who just returned his gaze in dismay. "But you did choose option #2 if you recall." At this, Sherman loosened the tie around Lex's neck. Using it as a gag, he pulled it up and stuffed part of it into Lex's mouth. "Plus, we don't have to listen to your smart mouth anymore this way. So you can just choke on your own money for a while, OK?"

Lex almost had to give him props for that one. He only regretted that it happened to be his favorite tie.

"I guess you've learned your lesson by now as far as what being a dumbass will get you," Sherman went on. "Even so, we can't risk you trying something once we get you outta here." And with that, Sherman unsheathed a small blade from his pocket. Lex's eyes widened in panic, cursing himself for ever making the parallel to _Chinatown_. In one smooth moment that seemed like an agonizing eternity, the man squatted and lifted Lex's trouser leg high enough to slash the exposed shin there with the knife.

Lex's immediate reaction from above his gag was more one of genuine shock than of pain; his eyebrows flew upwards as though he'd been merely surprised. The only subtle hints of maleficence were in the slight, barely perceptible waver of his head from side to side and the quick brightness of tears that sprang to his eyes. This show of restraint was short-lived, however, as Sherman proceeded to brush his palm against the dirt floor and rub the soiled hand furiously into Lex's wound. Lex's tie caught the full brunt of his muffled scream, and he began hopping up and down in Clayton's arms like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sherman merely smiled as he rose and said, "Hopefully that will get nice and infected."

The pain, meanwhile, was proving too much for Lex to bear, as he began to experience the overwhelmingly dizzy sensation that precedes fainting. This, however, didn't bother Lex too much; he decided, under the circumstances, that leaving this horrible nightmare—in one way or another—was the best thing that could possibly happen to him. The men were too busy chuckling with each other to notice his eyelids flutter shut, and before they knew it, Lex had already dropped out of sight, his body and side of his face slamming into the unrelenting surface once more.

"Whoa!" exclaimed a rather amused Sherman, jumping back. "He just dropped like dead weight there!"

"Yeah, well he pretty much _is_ dead weight now that we got him," Clayton said.

"So true, my friend, so true."

* * *

**END 4/11**

* * *

Keep running, keep running  
'Cause you feel your lifeline breaking  
And you know there's no mistaking  
The footsteps close behind

Heard a "bang bang bang!" and down you go  
Oh, no one really cares  
'Cause the harder you run, and the harder you fall  
I'm coming down hard on you  
I'm hoping that my aim is true

I got a name, and I got a number, I got a line on you  
I got a name, and I got a number, I'm coming after you

~ genesis


	5. Developing Picture

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**V: Developing Picture**

* * *

Clark heard a knock at the kitchen door and rose to answer it.

"Hi, Clark," greeted the anticipated visitor.

"Lana," Clark said, returning the smile. "I'm guessing you're here for the riveting homework session about to unfold?"

Lana laughed. "Oh, you know it." Sensing Clark was alone, Lana looked around behind him inside the house. "Where's Lex?"

"What?"

"Lex."

"Lex isn't here," Clark said, lowering his eyebrows.

"His car's in the driveway," said Lana.

"It is?"

"Yeah, you didn't know?"

"No," Clark said, craning over her shoulder and seeing the silver car for himself. "That's weird. Maybe he's in the barn or something—I guess I should go look?"

"Yeah, I'm in no hurry to get started. I'll go with you."

The two of them walked over to the barn and went inside. Looking about, there was no one to be found.

"Lex?" Clark called out. "Lex, are you in here?" He moved away from Lana to search the room more closely. Lana, meanwhile, surveyed the area from where she stood, her eyes adjusting to the light. It was then that her gaze happened to drift along the floor.

"Clark?"

"Yeah?"

Lana moved over to what she hoped she wasn't seeing, stopping above it in muted horror.

"Lana, what is it?" Clark asked as he turned to join her.

She pointed to the ground. "Clark, there's blood on your floor."

Clark arrived by her side and saw the dark, ghastly stain for himself. He squinted, letting his eyes roam from the puddle to the unmistakable trail that meandered haphazardly nearby. Fear swept over Clark in a way it never had before, and he reached for Lana's arm as he scanned the barn with his x-ray vision.

"Clark, let's go," Lana whispered anxiously.

Convinced that whoever had been there was gone, Clark nodded and quickly escorted Lana back to the farmhouse. They ran up the steps and burst through the door, startling Martha Kent.

"Mom, we need to call the police."

"Clark, what's wrong?"

"It's Lex..."

Jonathan Kent, hearing the commotion from the den, entered the room. "What's happened, Son?" he asked.

"I don't know," Clark said. "Lex's car is in the driveway, but when I went to go look for him, he wasn't anywhere. And, uh," Clark stopped, not even wanting to say the words.

"Clark, tell us," Martha probed.

"There's signs of a struggle in the barn," Clark said. "Or lack of one," he added under his breath, looking at the ground.

Jonathan stared at him, then turned to his wife. "Martha, go call the police. I'll go out to the barn with Clark and have a look for myself." The two of them exited the farmhouse, and Martha briefly reciprocated Lana's stunned expression before making for the phone.

Outside, Clark felt his stomach twisting as he walked beside his father. "Did you know Lex was coming to visit you tonight, Son?" Jonathan asked as they briskly crossed over to the barn.

"Well, he had called me earlier today and said he might stop by, but he didn't say what time or anything. So I just figured, you know, if he shows, he shows..." Clark trailed off.

They entered the barn, and Clark pointed out the track of blood that ran a good length of the floor. Jonathan squatted to get a better look at it, frowning heavily.

"I should go look for him," Clark said.

Jonathan rose and faced his son. "Clark, don't be ridiculous. You don't have the first clue of where he could be right now." Wagging his index finger at the floor, he added, "We don't even know if this is him for sure."

Clark looked back at him with hopeless eyes, but Jonathan grabbed him gently by the shoulders. "Listen to me, Son: there's nothing you can do right now. We have to let the authorities have a look at this and go from there. But we're going to find him, OK?"

»»««

The first thing Lex realized was that he was cold. The numbness helped to disguise (at least initially) his less than desirable situation. Finding his eyelids too heavy to lift, Lex instead tried to move his hands, which somehow responded from behind his back. The horrific realization of where he actually was—or at least under what _circumstances_—slowly began to dawn on him. He felt sore and sluggish (not to mention what felt like a tie in his mouth), and, although he really didn't want to open his eyes, the idea of keeping them closed terrified Lex even more. He was given some incentive in this area when he suddenly sensed movement in front of him, followed by the improbable sound of a Polaroid going off. Lex cracked his eyes open, the dim yet searing light of the room forcing him to squint. The unwelcome face of Jack Sherman appeared before him, and Lex started as another photo buzzed off in his face.

"Rise and shine, movie star."

Lex continued to frown out at him as Sherman clicked off a final picture, seemingly aimed at the ground. Lex glanced down and was promptly brought up to speed: his injured leg, which was stretched out before him, had been tied with a tourniquet so he wouldn't bleed to death.

_How thoughtful_, Lex mused. Taking in his surroundings, it looked to be an abandoned warehouse of some sort. While the place didn't look at all familiar, Lex knew they had to be in Metropolis somewhere—the air was just different here. Lex realized his hands were actually secured around a pole, the frigid surface of which was seeping through the back of his shirt. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since the whole incident at the barn, but he must have lost quite a bit of blood because he felt weak as hell.

"Welcome back," Sherman said, looking at the developing picture. "Looks like Smallville is about to get wind of your little predicament."

This bit of news sounded pretty good to Lex; he had actually just been wondering where that Clark Kent was when you needed him...

Sherman glanced over at Lex. "It's too bad most of the people in Smallville could care less what I do to their least favorite son." He walked over to where Lex sat on the ground and stopped. Lex looked up at him as he went on, "You know, I never liked your old man. I mean that's an understatement. But the minute _you_ decided to fuck with my family—that's where you messed up big time."

Lex closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Oh what, you disagree?"

Lex knew it probably wasn't too smart on his part, but he nodded haltingly anyway.

Sherman knelt and loosened the gag behind Lex's head. "By all means, speak your mind," he encouraged through tightened lips. "It's gonna be one of your last chances."

"Look, if this is about the farms, I didn't want to do it," Lex managed to get out. That crack in the jaw from the schmuck with the gun (who wasn't present, noticeably) really made speaking unpleasant; thankfully, though, his jaw didn't seem to be broken—Lex wasn't sure how he had gotten away with that one.

"You expect me to believe that?" Sherman asked, his face still level with Lex's.

"It's the truth," Lex replied wearily. "I told my father not to do it, but he did it anyway."

"You mean _you_ did it," Sherman said, wrapping one hand under Lex's chin and pressing back, lightly forcing Lex's skull into the pole.

Lex winced. "Careful," he warned absurdly. "I'm a bruiser."

Sherman frowned. "Really? I thought you had to be warm-blooded for that."

Lex resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Let's just say my father has ways of making me do things I don't want to do," he said, returning to the original accusation.

"Doesn't say much for your character, now, does it?"

"No, I suppose not."

Sherman rose and walked away, apparently not interested in inflicting any more bodily harm at the moment.

"Where's my friend?" Lex asked after him.

"Hmm?"

"Y'know," Lex slurred languorously. "The big fella."

"He'll be back," Sherman assured him, "don't you worry your pretty little head."

"If you really think my father is going to lift one finger to rescue me, you've got another thing coming," Lex said suddenly.

Sherman looked at him. "Well, let's just hope for both our sakes, you're wrong about that one."

* * *

**END 5/11**

* * *

Clutching my cure  
I tightly lock the door  
I try to catch my breath again  
I hurt much more  
Than any time before  
I had no options left again

I don't want to be the one  
The battles always choose  
'Cause inside I realize  
That I'm the one confused

I don't know what's worth fighting for  
Or why I have to scream  
I don't know why I instigate  
And say what I don't mean  
I don't know how I got this way  
I'll never be all right  
So I'm breaking the habit  
Tonight

I'll paint it on the walls  
'Cause I'm the one at fault  
I'll never fight again  
And this is how it ends

~ linkin park


	6. The Answer

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**VI: The Answer**

* * *

"Mr. Kent? Do you have the answer?"

Clark glanced up distractedly. "No... no, I'm sorry, I don't."

"I suggest you start paying attention, Mr. Kent," his teacher replied shortly, gesturing for another student to respond.

Clark waited a veritable eternity for the class to end, then made his way over to the _Torch_. Chloe had told him earlier that the media were supposed to be releasing new photos in connection with Lex's case—nobody had heard from him for two days now.

"Hey," Clark knocked on the open door.

Chloe looked up. "Oh hey, Clark."

"Have you found anything yet?"

"Actually, I think I have. My computer's just about to download what all of the papers have been getting in today."

Clark went and stood behind Chloe as they both waited for the file to download. Neither was prepared for the large, unsightly picture that emptied itself out onto the screen.

"Oh my God," Chloe murmured, while Clark just stared at it in disbelief. The photo was a close-up of Lex; his head was turned slightly to the side, but his eyes remained locked on the viewer. In any other context, the wrinkle in the middle of Lex's brow would have belonged to one of his many humorously confused expressions; in this context, of course, it just added to the air of desperate uncertainty. Lex's tie, pulled between his teeth and around his head, was being used as a gag, and there was drying blood pretty much all over his chin. The side of his face also appeared swollen and scraped. The sight of the blood and injuries, however, was not what Clark found most disturbing—it was the look in his eyes. The picture, obviously taken by Lex's abductor, had successfully captured the terror and hatred that filled them. Beholding this image of him, then, was through the eyes of his tormentor, and Lex's dark blue eyes glared back at Clark accordingly.

Clark turned from the screen and ran a hand over the lower half of his face.

"It's still so hard to believe," Chloe said, shaking her head. "Even seeing something like this—it doesn't seem real."

"Yeah, too bad it is," Clark replied heatedly.

Chloe turned around to face him. "The police came to your farm the night he disappeared, right?"

"Yeah. As far as evidence goes, though, they haven't said anything yet."

Chloe paused, returning to the screen and Lex's disconcerting stare. "If anything, Clark, maybe this will help us find him."

"I don't know about that, but we've gotta think of something. Who knows how much time he has."

»»««

Lex opened his eyes. He must have passed out again, but he couldn't really remember. Surveying his immediate surroundings, a large presence leapt into view.

Clayton noticed Lex's flinch with relish. "Not so feisty today, Mr. Luthor, are we?"

Lex stared at him blankly. _Actually, all is well now that _you're_ back, asshole..._

"He's awake again," Clayton called out to Sherman, who was across the room, apparently fiddling with a radio. Clayton turned back to Lex. "We're waiting on your father's official statement to the press. It's really the first statement anyone's given—nobody has seemed all that interested in coming after your rich ass so far."

Lex's eyebrows arched faintly. "Told you," he muttered.

Clayton reached out and grabbed either side of Lex's face with one hand, shaking it back and forth. "Hey, if I want your opinion on something, I'll let you know, OK?"

"Wait, here we go," Sherman said. "The press is introducing Luthor now."

Clayton reluctantly turned from Lex and stood. Lex stretched his jaw and waited momentarily as his father's voice began echoing blandly against the room's walls:

"Thank you. As you all know, my son Lex was abducted two days ago by unknown assailants. The police have been working extremely hard to locate him, and I thank them for their efforts. As of yet, I have received no formal demands, but my message today to Lex's kidnappers is simple: I will do everything in my power to find him. Be warned that we have highly capable people on the case, and you will be prosecuted to the fullest extent if found. I won't be taking any questions at this time; thank you and good day."

Lex deliberated silently for a moment. The only thing of importance he had heard was the "two days" part.

"Hey man, looks like your plan's gonna work after all," he shot dryly in Sherman's direction.

The two men turned to face him. Their expressions—partly hostile, partly incredulous—made Lex aware of the need to swallow again.

_Oh yeah, I haven't _drank_ anything in a while; should probably be conserving this saliva._

"What I don't get about this kid," Clayton said, as the two started over to Lex's position on the floor, "is that he honestly doesn't know when to keep his goddamn mouth shut."

Lex licked his lips agitatedly. "Look, I really have no idea who you guys are," he said, trying his best not to sound desperate. "If you let me go, I swear—I won't tell anyone about this."

Sherman smiled. "Number one, yes you would. And number two, where would the fun be in that?"

A tentative voice of the female persuasion didn't give Lex time to reply.

"Daddy?"

Lex craned his head past the two advancing men to get a glimpse of this impossible intruder, his savior: a girl of maybe eight or nine stood near the doorway, her dark brown hair resting just above the shoulders.

_Now _this _could get interesting._

While Sherman and Clayton remained temporarily frozen, Lex found himself, of all things, smiling inanely in the child's direction. He supposed it was a natural reflex for wanting to calm her somehow—though, on second thought, he wasn't sure which was actually more frightening: seeing a guy your father had kicked the shit out of, or seeing a guy your father had kicked the shit out of with a lunatic grin on his face.

"Grace, _what_ are you doing here?"

Lex could see the poorly disguised panic in Sherman's eyes, and it was suddenly clear how the man could have convinced himself that this harebrained scheme of kidnapping would actually work.

"Daddy..." the girl looked at Lex uncomprehendingly. "What's going on?"

"Grace, I told you—we can't see each other today. You have to leave right now." Sherman motioned for Clayton to keep an eye on Lex as he briskly made his way over to his daughter.

"But Daddy—"

"I'll see you later tonight, Grace," he stated curtly, wrapping an arm around her small shoulders and escorting her outside. The girl walked willingly under his guidance, but she maintained her gaze on Lex as she left.

»»««

The next day dawned cold, both in Smallville and Metropolis. Lana went over to Clark's early in the morning, her breath hanging in the air like exhaust. The steel gray sky loomed unseen, meanwhile, for Lex, but at least he had been offered a brief respite from his spot on the floor in the middle of the night—Clayton and Sherman had dragged him into another room to pour some cold water into his parched mouth, as well as to let him awkwardly relieve himself just so he wouldn't have to sit in his own filth. Come to think of it, he had probably pissed himself at some point during the first day, but who knows... Lex's brain was far too sluggish and addled right now to care just how degraded he had actually become.

It was morning now, and Sherman suddenly crossed in front of him. Lex thought it was probably better he could hardly hear them coming anymore. "Hey there," Sherman greeted, which received no response. "You know what? I've been thinking about what you've been saying, about your father not coming to save you and everything. And I just started to think, you know—what if it turns out you're right?"

Lex met his eyes but still said nothing.

"Even if you _are_ right, though," Sherman went on, "I really want to give Lionel the benefit of the doubt. I mean, if he doesn't do it for you, maybe he still will for the sake of his public image. So here's what I was thinking: I try to find the one soul in Smallville who might actually give a fuck about what happens to you. I let them in on what I exactly plan to _do_ to you if Lionel doesn't pay up, and then _they_ can relay the message to Lionel to see if he won't reconsider his—lack of initiative, I guess you could say."

He looked at Lex and cocked an eyebrow, gauging any kind of reaction. Lex had none to give. Sherman reached down and tugged on the tourniquet around Lex's leg, making Lex's mouth open slightly as even more color drained from his face, if that was in fact possible.

"_Now_ you're awake, good. As I was saying: do you know how we actually found you in the first place? I had your phones tapped and just happened to find out where you were going that night you decided to pay the Kents a visit. So my guess is, this Clark Kent guy is the only friend of yours who holds any kind of regard for you in Smallville. And if that's where I have to go, that's where I'll go."

Lex watched Sherman retreat to a nearby table and take out his cell phone.

At the Kents' house, Clark was pouring Lana a cup of coffee.

"Here you go," he said, placing it before her.

"Thanks," said Lana, wrapping her hands around it.

Turning, Clark noticed a letter on the kitchen counter waiting to be mailed and looked at the clock. "Oh, crap, I forgot to drop this in the mailbox for my dad and the mail doesn't come tomorrow," he said, hastily grabbing it and making for the kitchen door. Right then, the phone rang, making Clark spin around and stop. "Lana, I'm sorry—could you get that? I'll be right back, I swear."

"Sure, no problem." Lana went to the phone and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Good morning, I'm looking for Clark Kent?"

A few feet from Sherman, Lex closed his eyes.

"Oh, he actually just stepped out, but he'll be right back—could you hold on a minute?"

"Sure." Curious, Sherman asked, "Whom am I speaking to?" Lex, who felt he was on the brink of fading from consciousness again, waited drowsily for the answer as well. "Lana Lang," Sherman repeated slowly, to which Lex subtly but unmistakably lifted his head. Standing with Lex in his periphery, Sherman sensed the movement and looked over at him. Lex pretended to resume his careless survey of the floor, but Sherman continued to stare at him as he spoke.

"Hang on, there, Lana Lang, I think you might be able to help me out after all." Lex tried to remain as neutral as possible, pretending to have forgotten all about the display he just let slip. "Yeah, I uh... I think you might know somebody I have here with me," Sherman said.

Lana's gaze drifted up from the counter to the air in front of her as the words sunk in. Clark, who had just reentered the kitchen, saw her expression and stopped.

"What is it?" he asked.

Lana's eyes were large as she drew the receiver under her chin and whispered, "I think it might be the people who have Lex."

"What?"

Lana shook her head in disbelief and waited for the voice to go on.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Um, yeah, I'm still here... what is this about, exactly?"

"Just an update on a missing person, really. I was hoping to speak to Clark, but I gather you know Lex as well?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, staring at Clark. "Is he there right now?"

Sherman glanced over at Lex. "Yeah, he's here. Don't know what kind of _talking_ shape he's in, but..."

Lana bit her lip, not knowing what to say. "I'd still like to talk to him," she found herself saying.

Ready to dismiss this request, the potential benefits of such a situation suddenly flashed through Sherman's mind. A firsthand account of Lex Luthor sounding tired and weak? Lionel would be hard-pressed to ignore the bad press that would likely result.

"All right," he said. "Just for a minute, though."

Lex became vaguely aware of a phone against his ear and was soon listening to the first recognizable voice he'd heard since his father's.

"Lex?" Lana tried to maintain an even voice. "Lex, are you OK?"

Lana didn't hear anything at first, but then a familiar voice, molded by the melancholy smile that accompanied it, drifted into her ear: "Hey, when it rains, it pours."

Lana's eyes brimmed with sudden tears as she tried to conjure up a reply. "Lex..."

"Listen to me, Lana," Lex interrupted unexpectedly. "Don't—"

Sherman roughly seized the phone from him.

"Lex? Are you there?"

"I think that's enough of that, Miss Lang," Sherman answered her.

"What do you want?" asked Lana tremulously.

"What do I want? I want the Luthors to pay for what they've done to my family and everyone else's in Smallville. And if I don't get an actual _monetary_ payment from Lionel Luthor, I'll just have to extract that payment some other way."

Lana looked at Clark again, who had been restlessly scrutinizing her reactions throughout this entire exchange.

"Oh and Miss Lang?" Sherman smiled wickedly. "Tell Lionel his son isn't holding up very admirably for a Luthor." Before Lana could fully process this, Sherman vehemently buried his foot into Lex's stomach—precisely the same spot where he had punched him so forcefully before. Lex couldn't help but let out an anguished cry, the sound of which reverberated in Lana's ears. The noise would have been disturbing coming from anybody, but knowing it was from Lex Luthor gave it that much more effect. Lana screwed up her face and brought a shaking hand to her mouth in disgust.

Dial tone.

* * *

**END 6/11**

* * *

Whatsoever I've feared has come to life  
And whatsoever I've fought off became my life  
Just when every day seemed to greet me with a smile  
Sunspots have faded  
Now I'm doing time

'Cause I fell on black days  
I fell on black days

How would I know  
That this could be my fate?

~ soundgarden


	7. Crestfallen

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**VII: Crestfallen**

* * *

Sunday morning found Clark, Pete, and Chloe huddled around a table at the Talon. They stared out the window at the snow that had just begun to fall outside.

"I thought this was gonna start yesterday for sure," said Chloe. "Did you see how gray the sky looked?"

Pete glanced at Clark, who was watching silently as the flakes gently hit the sidewalk. "Hey, maybe we'll have off tomorrow," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "That'd be pretty sweet."

Still no response. Chloe leaned forward, folding her hands in front of her. "So Clark—" she began hesitantly, "You don't have to tell us about it if you don't want to, but I hear yesterday was pretty surreal."

Clark looked up and saw Lana across the room, taking orders from other tables. "Yeah, you know what can I say... Lana was pretty shaken up."

"It's just so crazy," Pete remarked. "I mean obviously I'm not Lex's biggest fan, but the fact somebody could actually do this is beyond me."

"Are the police looking into the phone records?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah, as far as I know. I mean we called them right after it happened and everything. I just feel so helpless, you know? The fact that so much of this has literally occurred in my backyard—and my guess is as good as anybody's."

"You can't blame yourself, Clark," Chloe assured him, wondering how many times he'd actually been told that.

Lana gave the three a flustered smile as she scurried past, bearing a laden tray.

Chloe looked at Pete and Clark. "Where's Whitney at this week, anyway?"

"Someone in his family's moving, I think," answered Pete. "He had to leave Smallville and didn't really know when he'd be back."

Lana swept by again, making her way to the other end of the Talon. Stopping to wipe up after some customers leaving their coffee table, Lana leant down and was promptly met with one of the newspapers bearing Lex's image. Unwanted flashbacks to yesterday's phone call made her falter, and she took a moment to regain her composure as she grabbed both the paper and her tray and hurried back to the main counter. Clumsily depositing the soiled cups and saucers into the sink, she turned around again only to see Lionel Luthor.

"Miss Lang, I presume?"

"Mr. Luthor!" she replied, startled.

"You know, I've passed by this place many times but never wandered in. Lex has told me about it, of course, but I must say, I'm quite impressed."

The mention of Lex's name tied a knot in Lana's stomach. "I'm sorry about your son, Mr. Luthor," she said awkwardly.

"Yes, thank you, Lana. We all are."

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, thank you, though. I came here because I understand you communicated with Lex directly yesterday."

Lana was taken aback. "I didn't think my identity had been made public knowledge yet."

"It hasn't," Lionel acknowledged. "You must realize, though, Miss Lang, that I'm in a special position to know as much of what's going on with my son as possible." Lana nodded gravely, and Lionel cast searching eyes on her. "What I came to ask you," he continued, "was what Lex may have said to you, if anything."

As Lana met his gaze, she felt an oddly defensive front rising. Her mind flashing to the image of Lex that lay by the sink just behind her, it was disturbing to think that Lex could probably just as easily look at his father with the same expression. Perhaps at one point in her life, Lana would have believed this man was coming to her out of genuine concern; at the moment, however, she couldn't help but feel it was simply a means to protect his image and the Luthor name.

"Honestly, it was such a shock, Mr. Luthor, I hardly even knew what was happening. The kidnapper took the phone back from him almost immediately."

"Yes, but could you make out anything Lex said? Perhaps he left some kind of clue regarding his whereabouts?"

Lana shook her head.

"How did he sound, Miss Lang—if you could tell me anything at all, I would greatly appreciate it."

Lana was suddenly struck with the image of Lex standing in the exact same spot, shaking his head over his father's egregious shortcomings. How many days had it actually been since then?

"He said he was fine," she answered. "That's all."

Lionel stared at her for a moment, and then he nodded and thanked her, bidding her good day. Lana couldn't tell whether he had bought it or not, but then again one could never really be sure of anything when it came to Lionel Luthor.

»»««

_Night... 5?_ Lex decided it had to be night, in any event; everything was far too still, save for the mournful wind howling outside. His captors were nowhere to be seen, but that didn't mean they weren't in an adjacent room. Lex wasn't actually sure how big this place was in general, which was definitely not a good thing.

Still pinioned to his good friend the pole, the cold crept mercilessly into his bones. Where the fuck was that jacket he had been wearing back in the barn, anyway? They had just decided to hide it from him or something? And after Sherman's unnecessary booting a day and a half ago, Lex was fairly sure one of his lower ribs was either cracked or broken—if there was even a difference, that is. Lex suddenly wished he had given med school a shot. God knows how many times it would have helped him out this year.

Out of the frosty silence came the sound of footsteps approaching. The muscles in Lex's chest tightened as he tried to brace himself for whatever he might have to endure this time. The sight that actually appeared across the room was unexpected, to say the least: the small yet significant figure of Grace Sherman hesitated in the doorway.

"Hi," she said tentatively, making her way towards him.

"Hi there—" Lex replied anxiously as he peered around her to the room's entrance. "Does your father know you're here? Or..."

"No, he and Buddy went to go do something—I heard them say it would take about twenty minutes."

_Buddy. Priceless._ His heart still racing, Lex affected his calmest demeanor and smiled. "You're Grace, right?"

"Yeah."

"That's a very pretty name."

"Thanks. What's yours?"

"Lex."

"That's a funny name."

"You think so?"

"It doesn't sound like a boy's name."

"It's short for Alexander."

"Oh, OK."

Lex watched as her eyes traced the outline of his head. "What happened to your hair?"

It occurred to Lex that he hadn't actually spoken to many young children... well, ever. Of course he had when he was _their_ age, but that was pretty much it. So to be faced with this young girl and her blunt questioning was refreshingly amusing.

"I lost it in the meteor shower when I was young," he answered her.

"Oh yeah, my daddy told me about that a little bit. It happened before I was born."

Lex squinted slightly. "Did you follow your father here?"

"Yeah."

"Where's your mother?"

"I don't have one," she said, averting her eyes to the floor.

Lex's lips formed a brief, empathetic smile. "I don't think you should be here, Grace," he said softly.

She looked at him again and reached inside her coat. "I came to give you this," she said, stepping forward and producing a shiny red apple. "Go ahead and have some if you want," she said, holding it out for him in her small, outstretched hand.

Lex eyed the apple more than a little longingly, though he would have preferred to have his hands to himself for once. The urge to appease his hunger greatly outweighed any semblance of pride he had left, however—_Beggars can't be choosers_, he told himself—and so, feeling more than a little odd, he leaned forward and slowly bit into the extended fruit. The action brought on whole new worlds of pain to his aching jaw, but this was a repercussion Lex was currently willing to bear. He closed his eyes thankfully as the sweet juices began to saturate his mouth.

"Have as much as you want," Grace said, rotating it for him. "And don't worry, I'll take the core with me when I leave."

Fighting the urge to ask the girl how old she was for real, Lex resolved to be grateful that at least one of them was still thinking logically. After a minute or two, he leaned back to signal he had had enough. He noticed Grace staring at his face and wondered how bad it might actually look. Grace, unfortunately, wasn't giving too many clues one way or the other.

"Did you do something to my daddy?" she asked rather unexpectedly.

Lex looked at her and shook his head. "No, sweetheart."

"Then why is he hurting you?"

"Because he blames me for something _my_ father did to him."

Grace didn't say anything at first, and Lex reflected on how nice it was simply having someone to talk to. It swiftly dawned on him that if he really wanted to get out of this place, he had to take advantage of the situation now.

"Listen to me, Grace," Lex began, gently but firmly. "I know you love your daddy. But he's going to hurt me very badly if I don't get out of here."

Grace returned his gaze with a somewhat torn expression, then shook her head. "No, I'm sorry... I really want to help you—but I can't. I can't..."

"Grace—"

"I'm sorry!" She turned and ran, leaving Lex where he sat on the floor.

Crestfallen, Lex watched her go. Feeling tears of desperation spark his eyes, he smiled miserably and laid his head back against the pole, staring up at a sky that wasn't there.

* * *

**END 7/11**

* * *

I'm so lonely, God won't know me  
I can hardly get up  
I sold my halo back in April  
Now I can't hold my head up

Someone see me, feel me breathing  
Someone get me home soon  
If I see sunrise and screw up my eyes  
I don't feel so lonesome

God knows why I'm watching the sky  
Getting so blue...

So ring out the bell  
I'll fly where there's someone to tell  
My shoulders are colder since I fell

~ travis


	8. Reprieve

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**VIII: Reprieve**

* * *

The snow lasted through the night and did not even let up the following day. As night fell, Martha Kent trudged out to the barn. Stopping at the door, she turned and marveled at how still and beautiful everything was. She entered the barn, making her way over to the hayloft.

"Clark? Are you in here?"

Martha ascended the steps to the loft and found her son sitting near the window, looking down at the fingers he was interlacing contemplatively.

"Hi, Mom."

"Dinner will be ready soon," she told him. "You OK up here?"

"Yeah, I was just doing some thinking."

Martha nodded. "About Lex?" she asked after a moment.

"Yeah."

Feeling a strong draft, Martha began rubbing her arms through her sweater. "Clark, it's freezing out here. You should come back to the house."

Clark didn't seem to hear her request. He shook his head resignedly. "I just don't know what to do, Mom."

Martha stepped towards him. "I know you're worried about him, Clark... all of us are. The only thing we can really do, unfortunately, is wait for the police to find some break in the case. We can't give up hope, though."

"That's not good enough," said Clark. "After all of the abilities I've been discovering lately—it's like I'm the only one who would really have a good chance at rescuing him, and instead I'm sitting here doing nothing about it." He paused and looked up at her. "No one else is gonna save him, Mom."

"You don't know that, Clark."

"Yeah, I think I do."

"I know you want to help him, baby, but you can't just go off blindly looking for him by yourself. You can't risk your own safety."

With a sigh, Clark turned and considered the snowflakes falling noiselessly outside. "This whole situation, it's just..."

Martha came and stood behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "I know," she said softly.

Clark continued to stare out the window under raised eyebrows. "I'm really worried about him, Mom," he murmured, nodding distantly.

Martha leaned down and gave him a comforting hug. "Me too," she whispered, looking out into the night with him.

»»««

Lex was daydreaming (or nightdreaming, depending on what time it was). Of all things, it was about the Luthor mansion—quite ironic, given the hatred he had always felt towards the place. Right now, however, the gloomy eyesore might as well have been Cosette's castle on a cloud from _Les Misérables_. He pictured himself resting comfortably in front of a fire, listening to some Mozart and sipping Armagnac. The thought occurred to him that his father was probably doing the exact same thing at the moment, but Lex forced such cynicism to the back of his mind. If only he could get back there...

His thoughts were interrupted as Sherman, who had been busily flipping through radio stations and leafing through newspapers, came over to his spot on the floor. Tubby Buddy hadn't been around all day; while this was somewhat comforting, Lex honestly couldn't say which combination of kidnappers worked most in his favor. Neither was a walk in the park, that was for sure.

Sherman squatted in front of him. "How ya holding up, rich boy?"

"Wonderful," Lex answered unconvincingly.

"Well, so far, it looks as though you were right," Sherman said. "Never would have guessed it myself—heir to the Luthor fortune, left like an unwanted dog to die an ugly death."

Lex made no response but concentrated on breathing normally, which was no easy task given the excruciating pain that accompanied each intake of air.

"It must be wonderful to have such a caring father," Sherman continued snidely. "The love he lavishes on you... must be overwhelming."

Lex gave a slight smirk as he looked down, catching sight of his bloody tie still hanging like a noose around his neck. "Yes, that's the word."

"I thought so. In all honesty, I almost feel sorry for you; Lionel probably hates you just as much as I do, and that really says something when you think about it."

_Indeed it does_, Lex thought to himself. Lex knew what the man was trying to do, but he was not about to give the bastard the satisfaction that it was working.

"No, you're absolutely right," he replied serenely. "My father is a disgrace to fathers everywhere. He should really take a page out of your book. I mean the example you set for your daughter? One to emulate."

A terrifying rage flooded Sherman's eyes as he lashed out and struck Lex hard across the face. "Don't you _ever_ mention my daughter again," Sherman bellowed as Lex withdrew from the pain of his mistake, trying not to gasp as the blood began to seep through his mouth once more. "Your dad might not love _you_, but I love my daughter more than anything."

Lex continued to stare at the ground, his head turned away. Sherman leaned towards him. "I want you to know that I intend to keep you here as long as your father keeps ignoring the both of us," he whispered venomously. "You might end up dying in the process, but that's up to Lionel to decide, now, isn't it?"

Lex brought his head back to rest against the pole and faced Sherman again. He suddenly knew exactly what had to be said. Even if it didn't stop this guy from killing him, at least it would take all the fun out of it. Judging it to be his last resort, Lex decided to go ahead and lay down some good old reverse psychology. He had, of course, always been aware of its potential; the thought had just never occurred to him to put it quite so bluntly. So, in this moment of extreme clarity, Lex gathered what little strength he had left—both to physically speak, as well as to steel his heart for the words his tongue was about to say.

Sherman was looking at him expectantly. Lex met his eye and then lifted his head, bringing his face that much closer. For the first time, Sherman was taken aback by his prisoner: Lex's eyes, though far duller than what they had been, appeared startlingly cold, and the exhausted, wry smile that flickered across his bloodied teeth literally made Sherman recoil. For his part, Lex had only hoped that what he was going to say would catch Sherman off guard, so he was more than pleased to see this display of apparent control was unnerving Sherman in itself.

"You can torture me all you want," Lex said in a low voice, "and you can kill me too, because I could give two flying fucks." Here Lex paused for dramatic effect, and he watched Sherman's face falter somewhat as he slowly declared, "I don't _care_ whether I live or die."

On the one hand, Lex didn't mean it—he was, of course, only saying it in the hopes it would spare his life. Even so, he actually found himself believing the assertion to some extent. Although he certainly did not want to die _here_, at the hands of _this_ fucker, Lex was somewhat at a loss when it came to a reason worth living for. He really hated to be so fatalistic, just because it meant victory for his father and everyone else who ever wanted him to fail. Even worse, though, was the thought of his mother's reaction to such a statement... but now was definitely not the time for such thoughts.

"I don't believe you," came the eventual response.

"Oh, I think you do," said Lex. "Otherwise, your face wouldn't look the way it does right now."

"No... no, I say you're full of shit. You value your life just as much as your fancy cars and your expensive clothes and every-fuckin'-thing else you surround yourself with."

"Sorry to burst your bubble," Lex said, visibly tiring, "but you couldn't be more wrong." When there was no immediate reply, Lex took the opportunity to plant an even bolder seed of doubt. "Honestly, I think it will be all the more poetic: after killing me, you'll get to waste away in prison—maybe death row, even—and all the while, you can never rest assured that what you did was worth it. All you'll have is the knowledge you put some poor fucker out of his misery."

"'Poor,'" Sherman repeated.

"As I was saying, just because you have money doesn't mean you're happy."

Lex watched the conflicting emotions fighting for dominance on Sherman's face. After a moment or two, the man turned from him and rose, exiting the room. Lex watched his receding back and wondered if he had just made things better or worse for himself. For the moment, at least, it looked as though Lex had scored himself a reprieve.

* * *

**END 8/11**

* * *

Disarm you with a smile  
And leave you like they left me here  
To wither in denial  
The bitterness of one who's left alone  
Ooh, the years burn

I used to be a little boy  
So old in my shoes  
And what I choose is my voice  
What's a boy supposed to do?  
The killer in me is the killer in you  
I send this smile over to you

~ the smashing pumpkins


	9. Nothing More

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**IX: Nothing More**

* * *

Grace knew she had to do something.

As much as she hated to admit it, she knew Lex was right—her father was capable of doing much worse than what she'd already seen, and there was no way she could live with herself knowing that. It was with this resolve that Grace finally made her way to the warehouse in the middle of the night.

The snow had finally stopped but lay thick on the sidewalks of Metropolis. The fear of somebody spotting her crept in with the cold as her small footsteps crunched over the packed snow and ice. When she finally reached the building, she quietly entered through a side door and made her way to the central room. Opening the door slowly, she peered inside and saw Lex still sitting on the floor, slumped against the pole he'd been attached to for as long as they'd known each other. Even from across the room, she could tell that the situation was bad; only when she began to move closer did this become so brutally apparent.

His tie having been looped through his teeth, it was obvious that Lex had been beaten substantially since she saw him last—various new bruises swelled out from his face, and that was only what was visible. Just as this grim thought crossed her mind, Grace noticed a pool of drying blood under one of his legs (which, if memory served her correctly, had already been injured the first day she saw him). Glancing behind the pole, however, she saw an even more affecting sight: raw and bloody wrists under the coarse rope that bound them painted an all-too-vivid picture of how Lex must have vainly squirmed under torture. The thought of beating somebody who couldn't defend himself was too despicable for Grace to even comprehend. Staring at Lex's closed eyes, she could suddenly see with an ominous clarity that he was not going to last much longer.

In front of him now, Grace peered at him tentatively. "Lex?"

Lex made no movement to indicate he had heard anything at all, and Grace was suddenly terrified that perhaps he looked so deathly still for a reason. Anxiously, she looked back to the door and turned around to face Lex once again.

"Lex? Can you hear me?"

Lex's eyes finally opened, slowly and reluctantly. Grace saw dim recognition in the bleary gaze, but that was all. There was no trace of the twinkle of humor that had been present the last time he had spoken to her, and her heart sank at the sight of this.

Grace leaned closer towards him. "Lex, I—I'm going to help you."

Continuing to eye her tiredly, Lex finally gave a slight nod.

"My daddy and Buddy are always gone the same time every night, but not for long. Do you think you can leave tonight?"

'Leave.' Not 'escape,' but 'leave,' as if there had been a choice in the matter all along. Lex stared at Grace and then glanced down for a moment. Lifting liquid gray eyes back to her searching gaze, he shook his head.

Grace pretended not to notice the visible despondence and nodded quickly. "It's OK," she said. "We can wait until tomorrow then?"

Lex tried to produce some semblance of the poker face he had meticulously crafted over the years. _Another _day_ here? There's no way..._ But Lex nodded briefly and gave a weak smile through the gag.

"OK, I should go for now then," said Grace. "I'll be back tomorrow night, though."

Watching her go, Lex forced himself not to count the minutes.

»»««

_He had been sitting in silence when Sherman and Clayton were suddenly approaching him, seemingly out of nowhere. Sherman was holding a crowbar, which he tapped steadily into the palm of his other hand._

_Lex's head swam. _You've _got_ to be kidding me...

_"Hey there, Mr. Luthor," __Sherman__ greeted._

_Aghast, Lex looked at Clayton but didn't see any apparent instrument of torture on him. _Just his freakishly large hands_,__ Lex concluded dismally._

_"Don't look so scared, we're just here to say hi," __Sherman__ told him, trying to sound casual and sounding anything but. The two men stopped just short of Lex and __Sherman__ raised a hand to Clayton. "Get the gag," he instructed, keeping his eyes trained on Lex._

_Lex watched Clayton come towards him and felt his heart begin to race at a sickening speed._

_"He thinks we can't break him," __Sherman__ said, still looking at Lex as his tie was once again fastened around his head and through his teeth. "I intend to show him that we can."_

_Sherman__ then lifted the crowbar directly over Lex's injured leg. Lex felt himself go white. __Sherman__ gave a cool smile at this visibly petrified reaction and did not move one way or the other. Staring at the hovering weapon, Lex finally understood that the purest form of torture is indeed the anticipation of injury as opposed to the actual injury itself. Returning __Sherman__'s gaze bleakly, he slowly shook his head from side to side in a silent plea for mercy._

_Clayton had returned to his partner's side and was now looking at Lex himself. Glancing at __Sherman__ sideways, Clayton said, "Hey—are you sure about this? We can't afford to lose him yet."_

_Unperturbed, __Sherman__ turned to him. "It's OK," he assured his partner. "He told me himself:" __Sherman__ suddenly turned back to Lex. "He doesn't give two__—__"_ TWHACK_ went the crowbar onto Lex's waiting leg__, __"flying__—__" _TWHACK,_"fucks__—__" _TWHACK,_"__what we do to him."_

»»««

A very long twenty-four hours later, Grace was as good as her word. Carrying what appeared to be Lex's jacket, she approached him once again.

"I think there's a truck outside that should be leaving the city soon," she said as she cut the rope from his hands and untied his gag. "I don't know if it's headed for your home or anything, but maybe it's worth a try."

Feeling the restraints give, Lex gingerly brought his arms around to his lap as he hunched forward with new, aching freedom. Knowing he didn't have much time, he concentrated on getting himself together enough to stand.

"You don't know how much I appreciate this, Grace," Lex said quietly as he made ready to inspect his damaged leg.

"It's OK," she said, biting her lip as she watched him.

Grimacing heavily, Lex loosened the tourniquet slightly and bent closer. Bracing for the worst, he found himself somehow looking at a miracle. The wound was ugly, no doubt (dry blood as well as not-so-dry blood was still everywhere), but there was no real sign of infection. If he didn't know any better, the injury might as well have happened just an hour ago, as opposed to having _re_opened after... well, after who knows how long ago.

Wincing, he tied it up again as best as he could and then prepared himself to stand. Reading his face, Grace stepped forward and offered her small hands. "Do you need help?"

Lex knew he'd pull the kid smack down into the cement if he grabbed onto her for real, but he smiled inwardly at her generosity and lightly took one hand while he steadied himself against the pole with his other. Grace bent down to get the jacket she had placed on the floor and offered it to him.

Lex looked at her and suddenly thought of something. "Grace, I want you to do one more thing for me," he said slowly as he took the jacket from her. "Do you think your father will know you helped me escape?"

"I'm not sure."

"Well, I want you to pretend like you have no idea how I got away. And if for some reason your father doesn't believe you, just tell him that you _did_ help me, but that I threatened to hurt you unless you did. Can you remember that?"

Grace looked at him solemnly and nodded.

"All right," Lex said, looking above her head to the door. "Let's try this walking thing."

»»««

Shivering in the back of the rig that he had finally managed to stow himself away in, Lex wondered where the turning wheels were in fact taking him. It didn't matter too much, as long as it was away from that terrible room. He looked at the watch that was still resting on his bloodied wrist.

_Dumbasses didn't even try to hawk my watch while they had the chance..._

The face read 4:16, but he had no idea what day it was. Lex decided to concentrate all of his energy on staying awake, for he felt like if he fell asleep it might just be for good.

When the truck rolled to a stop some time later, Lex heard the driver exit the cab and walk toward the back. Having taken cover behind a series of boxes, Lex felt a rush of cold air as the door was finally lifted. The driver seemed to be looking for something and then climbed out, leaving the back wide open. Peeking out, Lex could see that it was very dark outside. Not really trusting the driver to be delighted to see him, Lex crawled to the edge and slowly got out, staying low to the ground. Looking around the truck's side, he could see the man was now up by the cab. He crawled to the other side of the truck where he would not be seen and waited silently, trying to ignore the snow that was stinging the palms of his hands. The man finally came and closed the back up again, then went back to the driver's seat and started the engine up, pulling away.

Lex slowly stood and surveyed his surroundings.

Basically, he was in the middle of fucking nowhere.

_Genius, Lex. Genius._

Still content that he was at least free, Lex decided to start walking in a direction—any direction. He looked up at the stars and saw the Big Dipper. Paranoid that his captors were driving the roads searching for him at that very moment, Lex turned and began heading west across the snow-covered landscape.

The moon was so bright it illumined the countryside a frosty blue. Lex would have thought it beautiful if he didn't happen to be in the worst pain of his life at the moment. Pressing on, he wondered how fast a person usually dies after going into shock. Of course, he pretty much felt like he'd been in shock ever since he'd been abducted, so that probably wasn't a good measure of anything. At the moment, Lex's heart was pumping blood through his body (not to mention what must have been a shitload of adrenaline) and he was able to put one foot in front of the other—that was good enough for now.

Time passed slowly as more flashbacks to his harrowing ordeal tormented him. Though he was almost afraid to, Lex kept looking behind him to make sure there were no bloodthirsty dogs about to lunge on him. It wasn't long before he looked back and noticed something even more terrifying: a trail.

"No..." he whispered desperately, the word hanging in his frozen breath.

Before him stretched a path of crimson that randomly spattered the diamond landscape like macabre drips of paint.

_Perfect. Way to make it easier for them to find you and rip you fucking apart._

His panic morphing into unexpected rage, Lex tore off the jacket Grace had given him and set about roughly tying it over the blood-soaked tourniquet.

"Take that, you fucker," he hissed as he stanched the flow. "I will cut you off and hop the rest of the fucking way if I have to."

Rubbing his arms furiously, Lex kept moving. The temperature actually could have been much colder, but this didn't make much difference; Lex wasn't exactly dressed for the occasion.

He looked up after a while and saw a massive tree at the top of a slight incline. Austere and gnarled, the tree was full of ancient brambles and should have been cut down ages ago. Nobody had ever bothered, though, and so the tree continued to stretch its ugly, distorted limbs defiantly into the sky. Making his way towards it, Lex finally reached the formidable giant and leaned against it, breathless. The trunk turned out to be encased in ice, however, and Lex quickly withdrew his palms from the smooth, glazed surface.

He limped on, feeling his steps growing increasingly sluggish. Making it to the crest of a glittering hill, Lex put his hands on his knees and panted for air, the pain shooting through his ribs threatening to overtake him. Wanting nothing more than to collapse into the snow and let the numbness overcome him, he knew he had to force himself to remain standing.

It was then that Lex thought he heard a noise from somewhere behind him: almost like a twig snap, but it was too far away to make out. Had they finally caught up with him? Common sense would have told him that, having been deprived from normal stimuli for so long, his heightened senses were in overdrive—but then common sense was not something Lex had a whole lot of at the moment.

Convinced that they had found him at last, Lex remained perfectly still. A strange sort of peace settled over him as he realized he could get to work on that dying-in-the-snow thing after all. Personally, he would rather _not _be able to feel anything when those attack dogs started tearing the flesh from his bones...

It was all over. And, frankly, that was fine by him.

Glancing up, Lex's breath suddenly caught in his throat as he made out a familiar shape in the distance.

The Kent Farm.

* * *

**END 9/11**

* * *

It's bittersweet for me to know  
The fever's taking over  
The status of my fear soars

I'm waging a war  
A war in me  
The war in me is wailing

To channel this  
Is short of bliss  
To kill the cycle that I've fed  
The labyrinth in me  
Is every sin, every gain  
And all the blame

In a war  
A war for me is blaring  
I can see  
Heaven's tears for me

~ kenna


	10. Some Kind of Face

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**X: Some Kind of Face**

* * *

The windy darkness of the dawn enveloped Martha Kent as she emerged from the farmhouse. Quiet stars still flickered through the tops of the trees, but slowly the sky was beginning to lighten on the horizon. As she picked up a pail and began heading towards the barn, the morning's stillness was suddenly and irrevocably shattered.

"HELP!"

Martha turned around, bewildered.

"Help me! Please, God—_help_ me..."

Martha stared in utter disbelief as Lex's flailing figure came rushing out of the frozen fields, directly towards her.

"Lex..." came her imperceptible whisper.

Approaching fast, Lex was staggering wildly, his one leg obviously injured and a look of sheer panic on his face. Martha gaped in horror at how bruised and broken he was—she could hardly believe he was still standing, let alone running. Through her stupor, she managed to remain in place just long enough to catch him as he barreled into her arms. Clinging to her desperately, Lex began to sink to the ground, effectively pulling her down with him as he went.

"Help me, Mrs. Kent," he choked between rasping breaths. "They're gonna kill me, please, they're gonna kill me."

Martha lifted her head in alarm to see if Lex was indeed being pursued and wrapped her arms around him. Scanning the snow-covered landscape, nobody was in sight. Feeling Lex's lean frame shudder uncontrollably against her, she rubbed firm hands across his back.

"I've got you, Lex," she assured him. "It's OK, honey, I've got you—you're safe now, you're safe..."

"Help me," Lex continued to gasp softly from his coiled position, his heart bounding against his ribs. "Don't leave me, don't let them get me."

It was then that Clark threw open the front door, having heard the yells from inside. He froze as his eyes fell to his mother holding Lex on the ground. Jonathan was right behind him, and together the two looked at the scene before them, speechless.

Seemingly oblivious to anything outside of Martha's embrace, Lex had buried his face over the crook of her shoulder. Martha looked over at Clark and Jonathan helplessly as she ran her hand across the back of Lex's head.

"Call an ambulance," she said to Jonathan, who had already turned back into the house. "Clark, go get a blanket or something; he's in shock."

Clark whirled back into the house to retrieve it, his emotions oscillating between relief and terror.

Afraid of Lex passing out on her, Martha spoke gently to him as they waited. "Lex, you've been so strong this whole time—I just need you to stay awake for a little bit longer, OK? It's all right, you're gonna be fine now; help is on its way..."

»»««

After Lex had been admitted to Smallville Medical and the doctors were examining him, the Kents sat, silent and exhausted, in the waiting room. When one of the doctors finally approached, they all rose.

"How is he, is he gonna be all right?" Clark asked.

"Yes, he's going to be fine," the doctor answered. "He is definitely weak from lack of food and water, but slowly that will begin to improve. From the little I actually got out of him, I can hardly believe that he's not worse off, in terms of infections or anything like that. He's got a significant amount of bruising, a cracked rib, and some serious damage to that left leg, but nothing that shouldn't heal eventually."

A collective sigh went around, and Jonathan made the rather surprising comment, "Well, that's good to hear."

"Can we see him?" asked Clark.

"No, I think it's best he get some rest for now. I'll keep you updated on his condition, though, if you want to stick around."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Martha, and the man nodded and left.

Clark turned to his parents. "Look, you guys can go if you want. I think I'll hang out here for a little while, see how he's doing."

"It's all right, Son," said Jonathan. "We'll stay a while too."

»»««

Lex was more than happy to talk to the Kents when he finally woke up (even though he knew none of them could probably _tell_ one way or the other, seeing as he was so drowsy with medication). After exchanging odd words of thanks and gratitude, the Kents left him to get some rest. The next visitor to appear in Lex's doorway, hours later, was not so welcome.

"Lex."

Grudgingly, Lex turned his head to face the serpentine voice. The last time he had heard it was over a cheap radio's airwaves, pledging a steadfastness that was never there to begin with.

"I'm not sure to what sickening extent you're actually rewarding yourself with this visit," Lex began, "but you can save any hot air you may have brought with you; the heat works amazingly well in this joint."

Lionel chuckled heartily at the juvenile quip. "Ahh, my boy—I'm glad to find you exactly as I left you."

"_Exactly_ as you left me," Lex echoed, keenly aware of the embedded accusation his father would not catch.

"It is a testament to your strength as a Luthor," continued Lionel. "You were tested by fire and managed to emerge the same man, only stronger."

"Is that what they're calling it these days... oh, that's right, 'tortured,' 'tested by fire'—so many euphemisms now, it's hard to keep up."

The smile faded from Lionel's face, and he regarded his son soberly. "Lex, you can't believe how relieved I am that nothing worse happened to you."

Lex could have laughed but managed to keep his amusement in check, producing what was, ostensibly, the most natural-looking and handsome of grins. "You're right, Dad, I can't. God knows what you would have done, right? I mean you've never been able to live without me before, how would you ever console yourself. Not to mention, of course, _what_ a publicity nightmare."

Lionel's eyes narrowed as if pained, but Lex knew better—it was more a reflection of anger and of having hit the right nerve.

"I'm not sure that's fair, Lex," he said quietly.

"Well, you didn't exactly follow through with 'everything in your power' to find me, now did you?" Lex shook his head as if sadly astonished, though in reality he wasn't at all. "And you dare to stand over my hospital bed and tell me what is and isn't fair... so appropriate."

"Lex, you have shown me that you possess both the drive and the ability to overcome almost unimaginable adversity. Surely this means something to you?" Lionel glanced down briefly before continuing, "I know I haven't always been there for you in the past—"

"Yes, well the past is usually a good indicator of the future," Lex remarked wryly.

"Not always."

Lex met his father's gaze with scrutinizing eyes. "If this experience has taught me anything, Dad, it's that our relationship will always follow that rule."

"Lex, I know you're upset. You've been through a terrible ordeal, and it has understandably left you traumatized. Now I know it may take a while, but I just want you to rest assured that you _will_ get through this. And I will be there to help you."

Resisting the urge to say one of many things, Lex looked to the ceiling. "Get out, Dad," he said finally. "Just do me a favor and get the hell out of here."

"Lex, I—"

"Get out," Lex whispered exasperatedly, turning his face to the window.

Lionel stood there for a moment, then finally elected to comply with his son's wishes, turning his back on him.

»»««

Being monitored at the hospital was far from Lex's idea of restful relaxation, so he was thrilled when the doctors, all of whom were impressed with his speedy recovery, released him earlier than expected. Before heading back to the mansion, though, Lex's first stop was the Kent Farm.

Clark greeted his friend as he entered the barn, but soon noticed with a familiar pang of guilt the way in which Lex's eyes were subtly yet pensively tracing his surroundings from the beams to the floor.

Unaware of this reflex, Lex spoke genially. "Look, I really can't thank you all enough for what you did for me," he told Clark. "I just said the same thing to your parents, but you can reiterate it for me when I leave. Make me look good, you know."

Clark's smile was sheepish. "Lex, you did the hardest part. I'm just glad you were able to find your way back here. It's really unbelievable, you know, when you think about it."

"It is, isn't it?" Lex shook his head in wonder. "I picked a good house to roll up at, in any event. I know how efficient you Kents are when it comes to rescuing people."

Clark laughed. "Yeah, well I don't know about that one."

"All right, well I guess I should be going," Lex said at last. "I'll definitely see you later this week at some point."

"OK, Lex. Take care."

Lex walked outside and passed Martha, who was chipping away at some ice on the driveway.

"Bye, Mrs. Kent."

"Oh, bye Lex!"

Lex gave a meek smile. He couldn't help but feel strange seeing her again, thinking back to that dramatic morning in which he had finally reached safety. Though the details were vague, his memory of the incident was wholly unflattering, and Lex found himself mortified just thinking about it. He decided he had to broach the subject, at least to save some kind of face.

"Mrs. Kent?" he said, drawing closer to her. "I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate—I mean, I know it was difficult to..."

Seeing the ordinarily articulate youth struggle for words, Martha smiled ruefully. "Lex, we're all just glad you made it home safe," she said.

The comment struck Lex with an unexpected wave of emotion. Maybe it was her genuine concern, or maybe it was the sadness of knowing that this was not his home, nor would it ever be.

Feeling the beginnings of tears rise to his eyes, Lex was not about to let them fall. He had, after all, been holding them back this entire time—there was no reason he shouldn't be able to now. More importantly, though, if he _start_ed crying now, Lex had no idea how he'd ever stop.

Eying Lex's profile intently, Martha frowned. "Lex?"

Lex's lips formed a tight smile as he shook his head slowly from side to side, not willing to face her.

"Lex, look at me."

It took a moment or two, but Lex finally relented and turned, the movement sending a heavy tear spilling instantly down his cheek. At Martha's visible reaction, Lex felt his heart swell with relief just as it lurched in compulsory shame. Any lingering hopes there might have been for a dignified exit quickly evaporated as he gave a short, pitiful sniff and wrapped his left hand over his mouth, feebly trying to contain the hot tears that were sliding down his contorting features.

"Lex," Martha breathed as she opened her arms to him, waiting for the figure now wracked with sobs to enter them. Lex fell into her embrace with such abandon that Martha's own eyes welled up to think when the last time could have been that someone was there to hold him like this.

"Sssh," she soothed, running her hands across the shoulders hitching in misery. Though he was naturally taller and stronger than herself, Martha was struck with how fragile Lex felt in her arms—as though he might break into pieces if she hugged him too tightly.

They stood like that for some time, after which Lex finally withdrew. Wiping his nose with the back of a trembling hand, he nodded and gave a meager smile. There were no words to be spoken. By the time Lex pulled away from the driveway, the winter sun had sunk cold into the trees.

* * *

**END 10/11**

* * *

A winter's day  
In a deep and dark December  
I am alone  
Gazing from my window, to the streets below  
On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow

I've built walls  
A fortress deep and mighty  
That none may penetrate  
I have no need for friendship; friendship causes pain  
It's laughter and it's loving I disdain

I am a rock  
I am an island

Don't talk of love  
Well, I've heard the word before  
It's sleeping in my memory  
I won't disturb the slumber of feelings that have died  
If I'd never loved, I never would have cried

I have my books  
And my poetry to protect me  
I am shielded in my armor  
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb  
I touch no one and no one touches me

I am a rock  
I am an island

And a rock feels no pain  
And an island never cries

~ simon & garfunkel


	11. Embers

**Summary:** Lex contemplates his unhappy past and uncertain future when he is taken hostage in an act of revenge against the Luthors.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the lovely characters featured in Smallville—unfortunately!

I also do not own/have not written any of the lyrics or quotes which may appear as credited within this story; intended usage is merely to complement narrative and thematic elements of my original work.

**A/N:** This takes place somewhere in Season 1 (not very important to the story, just some minor details).

* * *

**XI: Embers**

* * *

The kidnappers' identities, when finally released, made all the front pages. Lex could only stare dully at the image of Jack Sherman looking back out at him from newsprint. No matter what, Lex was just glad that the authorities had found Sherman and his man Clayton as quickly as they did. Feeling like he had been granted the official freedom to resume life, Lex decided to go and check up on Lana, as he hadn't been to the Talon since returning to Smallville. He was pleased to see the substantial crowd upon entering, and after scanning the place for a moment he spotted Lana at the far end of the room.

"So how has my fledgling business partner been holding up?" he asked, coming up behind her.

Lana froze at the deep, impossibly languid voice. Turning to face him, she couldn't help reflecting on how Clark had described Lex's state upon arriving at the Kent Farm. It was disturbing to think what Lex must have endured that could have left him so radically transformed—from somebody so markedly confident to so utterly terrified. At the moment, however, Lex looked pretty much the same as he always had, save for a few signs of physical recovery.

"I think the more important question is how are _you_ holding up, Lex," she replied.

"Pretty good, thanks."

"We were all really worried about you," she said softly.

Lex raised an eyebrow amusedly. "I have to admit, I was getting a little worried there myself," he said.

Not wanting to be melodramatic but finding herself a bit mystified at Lex's demeanor, Lana regarded him curiously. "Yeah, when Sherman called us on the phone that day... it was just unreal."

Lex suddenly appeared uncomfortable. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Lana."

Staring at Lex's downturned face with its conspicuously healing bruises, Lana's features wrinkled in almost indignant embarrassment at the apology. "I'm sorry you had to spend two _weeks_ with the guy," she replied. She shook her head then, giving a modest shrug. "I know I never would have made it through something like that."

"Oh, I don't know, Lana... I think it was Abigail Adams who said, 'Great necessities call out our great virtues.' When it comes down to it, you're a lot stronger than you think."

"You really believe that?"

Lex gave a slight shrug himself. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Lana smiled. "Yes. I suppose you are."

»»««

As the sun began to fade that afternoon, Lex sat moodily in his study. He had just gotten off the phone with Roger Nixon of the _Metropolis Inquisitor_ and had somehow ended up on the losing side of their latest battle. For months now, it seemed that Lex controlled the upper hand in the relationship, but Nixon—who had an unflattering story that he was looking to publish—had just brought up the unwelcome fact that he could always go to the Kents and tell Clark about his ongoing investigation. So, reluctantly, Lex had to fold. When Clark came to visit him, he immediately sensed something was wrong.

"What is it, Lex?"

Debating silently for a moment, Lex told Clark of Nixon's scheme—omitting their little arrangement regarding _Clark_, naturally.

"And you're going to pay off a guy like that?" Clark asked. "What was he threatening to release?"

"Oh, just this ridiculous concoction of a story how I turned up at your farm an embarrassing shell of my former self, utterly weak and defenseless." Lex's ironic smile failed to reach his eyes, which flashed darkly at Clark. "Unfortunately for me, of course, it happens to be true in this case."

Clark looked at his friend apprehensively. "Lex, I want you to know that none of my family—"

Lex held up his hand. "Clark, don't be ridiculous. I know neither you nor your parents went to the press. Nixon just happened to get lucky this time; he made up the report entirely of his own devices. Like I said, it just turns out to be an amazingly and depressingly accurate conjecture on his part for once."

"I just can't believe that he would take advantage of you, after all that you went through," Clark said with such sincerity that Lex had to make an effort to hide the pity in his eyes.

"People use each other for money all the time, Clark. Do you remember in _The Great Gatsby_, how all of those people attended Gatsby's lavish parties and acted like they were his best friends, but then in the end not a single one of them attended his funeral?"

Incidentally, Lex had always thought that _that_ was the saddest part of the book—not that Gatsby couldn't regain the love of some selfish ex-flame. He often feared the same would happen to him. The ironic thing, of course, was that Lex actually had it worse than Jay Gatsby: at least those people in the book pretended to like him while he was alive. _I'll be able to boast an empty funeral _and_ the undying hatred of Smallville_! Lex thought, the notion so grim it was almost funny.

Clark, meanwhile, was still not willing to condone Nixon's behavior. "I don't know," he deliberated slowly. "It's as much a choice to let yourself be used as it is to do the actual using."

Lex glanced at him, genuinely intrigued. "This is true," he mused.

»»««

It was well after midnight by the time Lex allowed himself a moment of reflection in the mansion. The light from the flickering fireplace threw wild shadows about the darkened room as the wind raged outside, rattling the windows. Watching the last embers spark and crack, Lex found himself mesmerized by the blue flames undulating like satin over the charred log. He knew he should just go to bed; the weight of thinking about the last couple of weeks had been thoroughly exhausting. Draining his tumbler of scotch, Lex finally rose and went to the window, staring out into the night. There were paths of sleet on the windowpane, as if time had stopped and frozen the raindrops midstream.

His father was right. The entire experience with Sherman and Clayton had only proven that Lex could overcome—how had Lionel put it, exactly? Unimaginable adversity. Really, when it came down to it, who had come to his rescue? Grace. Whom Lex had practically convinced to save him. And who was Grace, even, but a kindred spirit... just another orphan with a madman for a father. So, in a lot of ways, Lex had saved himself. Nobody else had come for him this time.

Hypothetically, he could go after Sherman's family and make them all pay for what he had suffered. Of course, Lex would never want to harm _Grace_ in any way, but just the thought that he could, oddly enough, made him feel better.

Lex looked at the shivering trees outside, their icy branches rising and falling in the darkness of the night.

In reality, Lex could reap vengeance on whomever he wanted. He had the will as well as the means, and if anyone ever crossed him again, he would not so much as hesitate.

And with that, Lex smiled.

* * *

**THE END**

* * *

When I am king, you will be first against the wall  
With your opinion, which is of no consequence at all

~ radiohead

* * *

The only thing that one really knows about human nature is that it changes.

~ oscar wilde


End file.
